Legacy of Love
by Joe King
Summary: Believe it or not...Rita Skeeter writes something from her heart!


**A/N I'm not sure about this fic, but have wanted to write one for a while. I feel like the ending is anti-climactic…but I'll have to live with it. I can't think of any other way to end it. Don't sue me over how corny (and I don't mean funny-corny) it is.**

Hermione sighed as she sat down in the room in St. Mungo's. Harry was still unconscious…the healers didn't think he would make it. It was her, Ron, and Ginny's turn to watch over Harry. They-the Order and the DA, along with a few others who had known Harry-made sure someone was always there…in case he woke up. There was really no hope of that now, they just shifted out of habit and because they wanted to hope, even if they knew it was useless. Ron came in and sat down next to her, looking at his best friend lying still on the bed. He dragged his eyes away, and she saw them scrunch up to keep the tears in. This was hard on everyone, but Ron was having a real hard time of it. He was trying to be strong, but it was his best friend-someone closer than a brother-lying there, dying. Ron had thought, just like everyone else, that Harry wouldn't die like this. They didn't think he would die at all. They thought he was invincible, even though they knew better. He had faced death so many times and had always come away alive. Even when they had allowed themselves to consider the possibiliby that he would die, they had thought it would be quick, to Voldemort's dying _Avada Kedavra. _They had never thought he would defeat the Dark Lord to be captured by Death Eaters and tortured. They never thought he would lying in a hospital bed, fighting for life. Fighting, and loosing. This was worth that simply seeing him die. They were watching their best friend whither away slowly. They were forced to watch as he fought for fragile life and gave way, inch by inch, to death. They had had hope at first, and had that slowly stripped away, day by day, until there was nothing left. They were forced to watch the slow death of their closest friend, and it was killing them inside.

"Hey, Ron," Hermione whispered. She grimaced. The whispering belonged at a deathbed…and she didn't want this to be Harry's deathbed. The whisper's made it seem…too final. It showed that she had given up on the chance that she would walk in to see her friends green eyes sparkling as they stared up at her, a smile on his face. She didn't wand to give up…but she already had.

"Hey," Ron said. He said it aloud. He refused to give up hope. Ron was closer to Harry than anyone in the world-even closer than his many brothers. Ron wouldn't stop hoping until Harry truly was dead. Ron looked haggard…he hadn't shaved since Harry had been taken in here. He hadn't eaten right, and was thinning. He didn't sleep well. If he went on like this, Hermione knew she would be burying her two best friends in the entire world-one a brother…the other her true love.

"Ron," she said, aloud, but quietly, "I…I," she didn't know what to say. Ron looked at her, his brown eyes dulled with pain, grief, and constant waiting. She hadn't heard him laugh-really laugh, not the hollow, fake laughs he gave when needed to-since they had started to the Last Battle. But then again…not many people who were staying in the Burrow were laughing. Everyone was tired and grieving for the loss they knew would come.

"I know, Hermione," was all Ron said, and then he looked away-anywhere but at Harry. Just then, Ginny came in. If anyone was taking Harry's condition worse than Ron, it was Ginny. She was holding on to hope harder than anyone. It was heartbreaking to see the pain in her eyes. It pierced anyone who looked in her tired, sad, eyes. She was thin, but at least she was making an effort. She bathed everyday…did her hair…did everything normally, but with an underlying tiredness that was easy to spot. Hermione had said something about it one night, talking to herself and thinking that Ginny was asleep. Ginny was awake, and she had sat up and looked at Hermione.

"Because, Hermione. I love him. I need to be strong for him when he wakes up. I need to be there for him, Hermione," she had said quietly, conviction lacing every word. Hermione had slipped out of the room as soon as Ginny was asleep and sobbed on the table. It was heart-wrenching to see the toll that Harry's impending death was taking on the normally happy family. Even Fred and George were somber, barely joking. The times they did joke were forced and even they weren't truly apart of it. It was hard…but it was hard on everyone. Hermione couldn't imagine her life without Harry. She couldn't imagine trying to make sure that her two best friends fight didn't get out of hand. They always fought over stupid things…it was hard to think that she'd never see them giving glares at each other again. She would give anything to have Harry up and awake, even angry at her, just so that he would be alive. She would give anything to have Harry back.

Ginny slowly slipped into the seat on the other side of the table, her small hand slipping up on the bed to grasp Harry's. Hermione looked away, but watched out of a corner of her eye. She say Ginny mouth the words, 'I love you, Harry,' and watched as the girl placed a kiss on his forehead. Hermione couldn't help the tear that leaked out of her eye at this. Ginny loved him-really loved him. More than anyone. It was…hard to watch, even as she grieved for her loss.

A healer came in, breaking the moment. Ginny sat up, but didn't let go of Harry's hand. The healer smiled sadly at them all, her eyes showing that she truly felt bad for them. The whole world would grieve when Harry Potter died…he was there hero. But to the three sitting next to his bed, he was a kind, loyal, and brave friend. Someone they couldn't stand to loose.

"Hello," she said quietly, setting down a tray that had three hot chocolates and Harry's potion on it. She placed her wand in the Potion Bottle then touched Harry with it. It was like a shot, but without the poke. Hermione reached for hers. The healer set down something else-it looked like newspaper, and walked away. Hermione smiled sadly at her, telling her thank you without words. The healer smiled back, and turned to leave. Hermione saw her wipe away a tear. She turned back to the bed and saw that Ginny had picked up the newspaper. She was reading it, and her face was becoming sadder and sadder. Slowly, tears started leaking from her eyes as she read the article. She put her hand to her mouth and started to sob quietly, holding the paper close to her. Ron and Hermione watched her, concernerd.

"It's about Harry?" Ron asked hoarsely. Ginny nodded, handing Hermione the paper.

"Read…read it," she gasped out. Hermione nodded, setting her eyes on the paper.

"**_The Man Behind the Boy Who Lived_,**" declared the headline boldly. Hermione read it out loud, like Ginny wanted her to.

"_I warn you, before you read this article, that it is not like any other I have written for the Prophet. It is different, and I, Rita Skeeter, am not ashamed to put it in the paper. All that you'll read here is fully truth, it's fully factual, and it's fully right. For once, it's not from the Quick-Quote-Quill that I use so often, but from my heart. It is written in the way a true journalist writes…backed up by facts and written with feeling. It's writtin the way I used to write, before I let fame get to me. I wrote it as the person I became a journalist to be. And it is, truly, my best piece yet_," Hermione huffed. Anything Rita Skeeter wrote was garbage. She went to toss the paper away, but Ginny leaned over Harry and placed a hand on her arm, tears still streaming down her face.

"Read it, Hermione," she pleaded. Hermione looked at her, sighed, and nodded. She turned back to the paper.

"_Today, we're still celebrating the downfall of the most evil wizard to have ever set foot on this earth. Today, though it has been three months since his defeat, we still feel stunned that You-Know-Who is gone…for good. There is no part of him left in this world. He is, truly, finally, gone. We have great reason to celebrate…but there are those who cannot. Those who mourn their lost, who wait for word of their friend who lies in St. Mungo's close to death. The man that I am talking about is non other than Harry Potter himself, the very reason we have reason to celebrate. He cannot celebrate with us…they do not think he ever will. The healer's have given up hope for his recovery. Our hero is close to death, and we haven't even taken notice. He, the one we claim as our 'Man Who Conquered' is dying and we don't care. He, the one who faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named five times before the age of eighteen, who faced everything from dragons to accromantulas, who saw more death than anyone should have to see in a lifetime before he was seventeen, is almost gone. He is our hero, one they will talk about in history books, and he isn't even remembered now. He has done so much, and we don't take notice of him," _Hermione's voice wavered a bit. The world hadn't noticed. The world didn't care. Harry was dying, and it was breaking those who were close to him.

"_As a baby, a small one-year-old with nothing special about him, he was still a thorn in You-Know-Who's side. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to Godric's Hollow with every intention of killing the small boy, he had no idea what he would face there. He killed both of Harry's parents, orphaning the boy, and then went to kill the child. But he couldn't. He tried, and the curse rebounded upon himself. He was destroyed, the world freed of the fear that had held it captive for 13 years. We were overjoyed, gathering in the streets and not caring if the non-magic population (commonly known as Muggles) saw. Harry Potter became the Boy-Who-Lived. A hero before he could walk or talk. And then he was whisked away into hiding by Dumbledore. We talked about him in everyday conversation, we told his story to our children, all the while having no idea where the child that was our hero was,_" Hermione was starting to cry as well.

"_Then he was eleven and he came back to attend Hogwarts. He was still hailed as a hero, perhaps the most famous wizard ever. His scar was easily noticed under jet-black bangs. We knew who he was…he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, our hero. He went to Hogwarts and tried to be normal, with his two best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. But it was impossible, for You-Know-Who wasn't gone and was just waiting to come back-waiting to kill the one who had destroyed him. He tried in Harry Potter's 1st year, and was stopped again by Harry Potter. He couldn't get the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry had stopped him, at great risk to his own life. The students knew that he had again faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and knew he was really a hero. He, at age eleven, had done what most grown wizards feared to even think about. The story spread from student to parent to parents friends. People knew that the Boy-Who-Lived was truly a hero._

"_And then second year comes around, with Harry Potter being twelve years-old. He goes to school to face another deadly challenge. The Chamber of Secrets. But the Heir of Slytherin wasn't after Muggle-born's anymore…no, he was after Harry. He took Ginny Weasley (Ron's little sister) into the chamber to draw Harry out. Harry came, the hero in him not allowing to lie low and see what happens. He came, he fought, and he conquered. He faced a sixteen year-old Tom Riddle (later to become He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) and won. He killed a basilisk and saved Ginny Weasley. Another amazing feat that not many can say they have done…in fact, he is only the third person to have faced a basilisk and survive. He was still proving to be an amazing person._

"_Third year, and he faced Demementors and a murdered after him. He saves his godfather-the alleged murderer who wanted him dead-and repels hundreds of Dementors, something else not many have done. Fourth Year. A story we all know. He's in the Triwizard Tournament, the youngest champion. He wins...only to watch Cedric Diggory die and You-Know-Who come back. Only to have to face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a third time as a fourteen year-old. He does…he gets away and alerts the wizarding world to the Dark Lords presence. No one believes him, and so he enters his fifth year with the world either thinking he's barking mad, a crazed intention seeker, or telling the truth. Most people thought him to be one of those first two. Some of his friends are turning on him, his teacher hates him. It's hard…and he has pain in his scar and visions of You-Know-Who to deal with. He goes to the ministry, to save his godfather. He, a fifteen-year-old who's already seen too much, sees his godfather-the closest thing he's ever had to a father-murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. He faces You-Know-Who for a fourth time. Harry Potter finds out about a prophecy that puts the fate of the world on his young shoulders. In his sixth year, he has to face awed crowds and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising in power. Then-the harshest blow he has had yet-he sees Albus Dumbledore, his friend and mentor, killed at the hand of his potions master_," Hermoine's voice cracked, remembering Harry's face that night. He had looked lost. He had been hurt horribly when his friend had died. Rita had it right, for once. It really had been the harshest blow Harry had yet faced.

"_His seventh year…he went after You-Know-Who to destroy him, before he could hurt anyone else. Harry Potter couldn't let him terrorize the world longer when he had a chance to stop him. And stop him he did…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone and the world is free. But Harry Potter isn't…he lies dying_," Hermione gasped, tears falling down her face now. It hurt, reading this. She normally tried to ignore the pain, but this article was bringing it to the front. She glance up and saw that Ron was fighting tears.

"_But you see…while we haven't noticed, many others have. Because while Mr. Potter was a great hero…there is a much greater legacy he left. He was brave. He was kind. He was loyal. He had a sense of humor and joked around with his best friend. He laughed and talked and hurt and cried just like every other boy. He had friends…he had enemies. He was humble, attributing his great accomplishments to luck and others. He hated being famous. He loved Quidditch and was a very talented seeker. He had an invisibility cloak from his father…one of his most prized possessions. He grieved the losses he went through. Harry did his homework-leaving it to the last minute, like any other teenage boy.. Harry Potter had teachers he hated and onse he loved. He took notes and tests. He was a normal boy who was put under some very amazing circumstances. He loved and laughed and hated and grieved…he felt the same emotions just like everyone else. People talk about him and he talked with his friends. They would joke, complain about teachers, and have snowball fights out on the Hogwarts grounds. He loved his friends very much, and they loved him_," Hermione started crying harder. This was more like the Harry she had known. She looked at Ron again. He had fought the battle against his emotions and was crying, looking at his feet.

"_In their fourth year, Ron and Harry got into a fight. Mr. Weasley was jealous of his best friend…they worked through it. He and Ron wouldn't even talk to Hermione in third year over a broomstick-what a stupid reason. He was normal boy, who got into fights about normal, stupid things. In his sixth year…he was in mourning because his godfather had died. He cried at night and didn't eat much. His heart was aching, left with a huge hole that Sirius Black had once filled. He grieved and dreaded facing the questions that would surly come. He wondered-and would still wonder-about his parents. What were they like? Is really as like his father as everyone says he is?"_ Hermione had to take a few short gasped, trying to calm herself enough to keep reading. She saw that Ginny had laid her head next to her and Harry's entwined hands. Ron was looking at his best friend, his shoulders shaking.

"_You see, Harry Potter really is a normal boy, and while we haven't noticed his condition…his friends-his family-has. They can't ignore their pain. They can't ignore their heart,_" Hermione closed her eyes for a minute, taking huge breaths. She chanced another glance at Ron. He had put his head in his hands.

"_Harry Potter is the Boy Who lived, the Chosen One, and the Man Who Conquered. He really is the hero who faced You-Know-Who five times…who defeated him. But he is also the boy who laughs and loves. He is a boy who captured many hearts in the few years he's been apart of the magical world. He, while being a hero to many, is also simply himself. The friend, brother, and son that is loved and mourned. The one that people spend nights up worrying about. The one that people cry over and yell at and laugh with and cry with. Our hero is, simply, Harry James Potter. And perhaps that, the fact that he lived and laughed so much, is his greatest legacy. I hope that he will be remembered for more than his defeats of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I hope that he will be remembered for his legacy of love_," Hermione finished. She was barely able to see the paper for the tears streaming out of her eyes. She rested her head on the back of her hands, gasping for breath. She could hear Ron crying quietly next to her and hear Ginny sobbing on the bed.

She looked at Harry then, noticing how pale and drawn he was. He really was dying…and the worst part was, there was nothing she could about it. She glanced back at the paper and saw the picture for the first time. Ron, Hermoine, and Ginny were almost in the exact same positions they were in now, but they weren't the only ones there. Behind Hermione, Professor Lupin and Tonks were standing, holding hands with heads bowed. Tonks was crying and Professor Lupin had a single tear running down his cheek. Behind Ron were all of his brothers-Bill, with his wife Fleur, Charlie, Fred and George…Percy was missing, like he always was. She noticed that Luna and Neville Longbottom were standing close the Weasley's, Neville looking slightly uncomfortable and Luna missing her usually spaced-out expression. She was looking at Harry and there was pure grief on her face. Kingsley Shakolt…Mad-Eye Moody…Professor McGonagall…they were all there. The two people in the picture that made Hermione cry the hardest were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They were standing behind Harry's head, Mrs. Weasley had her handon Harry's head and was clinging to Mr. Weasley, crying for all she was worth. Mr. Weasley was crying as well. Mrs. Wealey looked up every so often, and Hermione could see her mouth the words, 'not Harry….not my Harry…not my son," Hermione tore her eyes away from the picture to see the real Mr. and Weasley coming in. They looked tired. Mr. Weasley smiled at Hermione, but it was a distant smile and his heart wasn't in it.

"Hello," he said quietly, Ginny opened her eyes but didn't take her head off the bed. Ron didn't even look up. "You three are here constantly," he continued, running his eyes over his heart-broken daughter and his haggard son. "Molly and I've come to take over for a-" he began, but Ron, his head shooting up off of his hands, interrupted.

"No!" he said loudly.

"I'm not leaving him…none of us are," Ginny added in quiet, but confident, voice. Mr. Weasley sighed.

"I thought you would say that. You three need to sleep," he said, and he held up his hand when they all opened their mouth to protest. "No, you do. But we won't make you leave. Just take three beds-" he said, but at that moment Tonks and professor Lupin entered.

"You had the same idea we did?" Professor Lupin said to Mr. Weasley after surveying the scene.

"Let them get some rest?" Tonks said. Mr. Weasley nodded, then turned back to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

"Listen, you three. You need sleep. Just take three of the empty beds…you don't have to leave him that way," he said. There was a quiet pleading in his voice. Ron looked at Harry and then at his father. He nodded slowly and went to lie down. Hermione got up and walked around to Ginny, whose head was still on Harry's bed.

"Ginny?" she asked quietly. Ginny looked at Hermione, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I can't…can't leave him, Hermione," she said, placing her other hand on top of the one that was already holding Harry's. Ginny heard Mrs. Weasley stifle a sob.

"Ginny…what about being strong for him? You can't do that without sleep…come on," she said, rubbing Ginny's back lightly. Ginny slowly lifted her head up and looked at Harry.

Hermione heard her whisper, "I'll be back," but she was sure that she was the only one who could hear. Ginny got up and took the bed closest to Harry. She laid down and closed her eyes. Hermione smiled.

"You too, Hermione" Mrs. Weasley said gently. Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley, slightly startled, and nodded. She had almost forgotten that the Weasley's, Tonks, and Professor Lupin were there. She went to a bed and laid down, facing Harry's bed. She was far enough back that she was in shadow but close enough to hear their conversation.

"Do think he'll wake up?" Professor Lupin asked quietly, sitting down. Mrs. Weasley tried to hold back a sob. Mr. Weasley sighed heavily.

"I don't know…I pray that he does. I…I can't imagine life without him. He's like a son to me and Molly…and closer than a brother to Ron…I don't even want to think about him dying," he said. Everyone nodded.

"I don't want him to, either…" Tonks said, then quietly, so that Hermione had to strain to hear her, "I love him." Professor Lupin smiled.

"I think we all do," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. She took Harry's hand. "You hear that, Harry? We need you to come back…we love you too much to loose you. You fight, Harry, you fight hard. You can beat this…we'r all here, supporting you…waiting to have you back among us…just don't…don't die," she said, then leaned against her husband.

Hermione thought about the picture she had just seen and smiled sadly. She knew that whatever happened-whether Harry lived or died-that he would always have his legacy of love.

**A/N Review…please. Even bad reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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